


The Most Beautiful of Melodies

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Meteorstuck, Music, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dave and Karkat make and listen to music on the meteor.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	The Most Beautiful of Melodies

You sigh as you watch Dave fiddle with the turntable plugged into his laptop. You watch him put in his earbuds and begin to listen to whatever “sick beat” he may be making now. You hate the way he looks, closing his perfect eyes and nodding along to the music. His long, lush eyelashes rest as he makes small movements. He looks like a river, flowing to the sound. 

Tilting your head to rest on the doorframe you’re leaning against, you wonder what it would be like to be him. You wonder what you’d be like if you didn’t have your messy black hair, your soft curves, your round and chubby grey face, your sharp clawed hands, your candy corn horns, and your eyebags even Troll Steve Buschemi couldn’t rival. You want to know what it’s like to be Dave. Having his slim long limbs, his fluffy blonde hair, his eyes that stare right through you and peer into the deepest darkest parts of you, his scars that he doesn’t talk about, scraped across his face and arms and middle, his freckles that seem to be splattered randomly across his soft cheeks, yet in the most meticulous way to make you red. You wonder what it’s like writing the blog, making the music, hiding behind those dark sunglasses.

“hey karkat”  
“karkat” He’s saying your name...  
“karkat”  
You only snap out of it at the 3rd “karkat” and stand straight up, startled as you break your trance.  
“WH- FUCKING SHIT. WHAT?” You question sardonically.  
You look around to who may have been calling and see Dave looking at you under his shades. His right eyebrow is cocked up, and he’s laughing at you under his breath. You realize that for the past undetermined number of minutes, you’ve been staring at Dave, watching his every movement. You hadn’t been listening to him when he turned left and started calling your name as you kept your eyes fixated on him, blocking out all sound. 

“what are you doing in the doorway? get over here,” He says, beckoning you to sit beside him with his hand. He scooches over and looks at you with the most painstakingly Dave expression, and you melt a little inside. You scrunch up your face as usual, and tentatively walk over to him, letting out a little “hmph” when you sit beside him, behind the turntable. You look down and stare at the ground, anxiously studying your worn out black jeans, the ones you wear baggy to hide your legs that you loathe. You grab the end of the large grey turtleneck you’re wearing and grind the fabric in your fists. You bite the inside of your cheek with your sharp teeth, and continue avoiding the person next to you.

Suddenly you feel something tapping at your shoulder, and look to your right. Dave is poking you, holding a pair of earbuds. You gasp the smallest bit, just enough to alert Rose, who's sitting across from you. She looks back at you, and your slightly flushed, wide-eyed face. You slowly grab the earbuds, and push them into your pointed grey ears as you look up at Dave.

“here, listen to this.” He says, clicking the space bar. The song starts out slow, a pulsing drum beat setting the groundwork for the other synthesized instruments. The sound seems to flow from the earbuds and through your body and beat along with your racing heart. You want to hate his music, but it just sounds… good. He’s smiling slightly at you, waiting for a reaction as he bobs his head and listens. You can see the creativity in him, the drive to make something original, something people can enjoy.

Back at home, you never really got to hear much music since you were always hiding in your hive, trying not to get culled on sight. If you’d ever gone to a show or a concert, you just know the drones would come flocking immediately, and you’d be responsible for more than a few lives. You never got to hear anything like this, anything so fresh, so raw. In Dave’s music, you can feel him, and you can understand him through the musical art he makes. Now he’s closing his eyes, back to dancing with his shoulders and head to the music. You watch him get lost in the sound, proud of his work, and smile at him. He made something amazing, and you’re getting to experience it. With him.

Soon, he’s creating new tracks, playing with the software on his laptop as he makes beautiful sounds. You watch him with your hands folded in your lap, interested with what he can do and what he can make with just a computer and some tech. You’re completely invested with how he can just create, make something out of nothing just from his mind. He’s so inspiring, you wish you could be like him, be as creative, be as pretty, be as cool, be as perfect as him. 

Then, he pauses the song and smiles at you. He softly grabs your right hand, and picks it up, resting it on the turntable in front of you. Oh god he’s touching your hand oh god he’s holding it just so slightly oh he’s touching you oh my god oh my god oh my god. Rose is looking at you now, as your face reddens. She snickers a little, and gets up with a smirk, gliding out of the room in her long velvet skirt gracefully as ever. Now you two are alone, and it doesn’t seem to be phasing Strider at all. You try to calm your staggery breaths and gulp. 

“here, why don’t you try,” Dave asks, his hand clicking the play button again. You’re frozen. He was just touching you oh sweet fucking sufferer why are you so worked up about this right now? It’s not like he did anything, he just held your hand for a moment! Oh no, now he's looking at you, wait what did he want again, oh fuck youre screwing everything up already, you messed it up already you big mistake, what are you doing? He’s waiting for you to do something! Stop being frozen, come on! 

You snap back to reality and look at the turntable, your clawed hand resting on top of it. You listen along with the beat in your ear as Dave watches you. You take a deep breath, and roughly press the record down and push it forward, sending out an agonizing screech to your and Dave’s earbuds. He flinches, keeping up his nonchalant façade. Now you’ve really fucked it up, god why did you even try? You can’t make music like him! You don’t have any talent! You sink a little in your seat and mumble out a raspy “SORRY”. 

“hey, hey, hey. it’s ok. don’t worry about it karkat you’re fine.” You look up at him, and he’s staring at you with a face that makes you feel like you could just seep through the floorboards right now. 

“here, lemme show you.” 

You perk up a little as Dave places his hand on top of yours again and slides his fingers in between yours, starting to guide your hand on the black ridges of the vinyl. You feel like a Troll Studio Ghibli character when they get startled, hair raising and animated body squishing upwards as you gasp. You can feel your face start to turn redder by the second, even brighter than before as he takes your rough and calloused digits between his and slowly moves the record back and forth lightly, creating those “wicky-wicky” sounds that are so common in his music.

“its called scrubbing. uh- the… scratching sound.” Dave says slightly grinning anxiously. You are too flustered to answer, nodding and avoiding his gaze. Oh lord, don’t look him in the eyes, don’t look him in the eyes, don’t look him in the eyes… You’re probably doing such a bad job, even with his help! Oh gog if only you could be as good as him. Even when he’s guiding your hand up and down the turntable, clicking buttons and making new sounds… oh my gog he let go oh shit oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh f-

“here, you try. ill lay off, go ahead,” he invites, gesturing to the turntable as he lifts his hands off. Your eyes shoot wide, and you hesitate, turning so frozen you could sink a titanic. You let the backing track play as you breathe heavily. Placing a sharp hand down on the record again, you start to imitate the movements he made before, lightly pressing and scratching the vinyl while pressing down knobs and plugging in wires on the complicated machine. 

“heyyy, youre doing pretty good, kat. im proud to be your sensei of these suzushii sounds.” You grimace at his cringeworthy and insufferably dorky words.

“FIRST OF ALL, WHERE’D YOU LEARN THAT? ONE OF YOUR ‘ANIMES’ YOU GLOBE TICKLING SHITHEAD? SECOND, DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME KAT. AND LAST BUT NOT FUCKING LEAST, I’M DOING TERRIBLE, AND YOU KNOW IT, SO SHUT UP BEFORE I LEAVE YOU ANNOYING EXCUSE FOR A CRUS-” You shout, staring him straight in the eyes, making sure to not finish that embarassinf sentence. You hate that you just said all those obscene , awful things. You wish you could just be nice for once, but is that even possible? You’re an asshole, and that’s all you’ll ever be. If only one day you could be good enough for someone like- wait. Where are his sunglasses. You only now realize that the whole time you were yelling at him, he didn’t have his shades on. What does that mean? 

You squint into his bright red irises. Is that normal? Back on alternia all the trolls had just normal black pupils, and would only get colored irises during their adult molt, after they’ve already left Alternia. Is this what Dave hides behind those glasses? His eyes… they seem to just- draw you in. Their round shape, his eyelashes you never noticed were flicked just right, the slight scarring over the area near his shallow nose bridge. Your face starts to relax from its previous scowl as you two stare into each other and you take shallow breaths. 

Dave is the first to look away, quickly looking towards his laptop and clicking through files until he finds one that he has to type a password to unlock. Now looking at the screen, you see him double click a .mp3 titled “kat”. You’re bewildered, why would he have a song named after that incessant nickname he insists on giving you? And why is it in a locked folder? And why of all times, is he playing it now? You look back at the hands you have in your lap, and stare at your lap as Dave clicks play. 

You look up from your thighs, to the computer, and then to Dave as the song plays. He’s looking down, fiddling with a wire hanging from the laptop below the table. You look at him wide-eyed as the sounds pour into your ears. This song sounds different from the rest. It’s slow, the beat staying consistent throughout. The slight bass line in the background of the tune reminds you of a heart beat. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. You feel your bloodpusher fill with the sound, then expel it. You feel the drums in your toes, in your legs, in your torso, in your head. The simple melody clouds your mind, feeling like a soft hug, like the ones you used to get from your crustacean lusus. You’ve never heard Dave seriously sing before, and although his teenage voice cracks and breaks, you can feel him -his soul- in every word that seems to drip into your ears and find its way to the pit of you.

He stops biting his lip nervously and looks at you directly in your yellow and black eyes. You sigh and look back down. The beautiful melody starts to fade out, and all that's left in your bloodpusher is a void, an empty plane, left vacant by the slow ending of Dave’s music. 

You’re alone with him, finally. You have been waiting for this moment for so long, it should feel relieving. And yet, and all of the air just got sucked out of the room. You feel like you’re choking on the silence, drowning in the most aggravating emptiness. A vacuum of feeling so apart and so alone and so needy and so... silent. You can't bear to say anything, just stare at your thighs and force yourself to not look at him. You want to look. 

You want to get lost in watching his lips, entranced by how they move, and how much you just want to press yours against them. You want to look in his eyes, stare into the depths of his heart, ignite a flame within you like those striking eyes do every time you lock gaze. You want to see his hair, soft and just the perfect place for your hands as you run your fingers through it. You want his hands, large and warm, perfectly fit for yours, your hands slotting into place inside his like they've belonged there forever, which they have. You want his whole body, lanky and slim, a perfect pair for your own round and soft frame. You want him. All of him.

The way he cracks a joke at all opportunities, the way he laughs at you when you're being crabby, the way he can switch immediately to being serious from being happy, the way he acts all tough and mighty when you know he's just scared. You want him to know it's all alright, that you belong by his side, that you’ll stick with him, forever. You want him to know how much he makes you overthink all your actions, stomach fluttering, blushing at the thought of him. You want him to know how he makes you feel whole, safe, and like you belong in this world. You want him to know how he makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you aren't a little insufferable piece of shit that everyone hates. Maybe you are alive. Maybe you really are lovable. You need him to know, but you're still just there, by his side, miles apart.

“DID YOU WRITE THAT SONG… FOR M-” 

You’re immediately cut off as he grabs your face gently, turning to his and closing the distance. Stunned and wide-eyed, you try to gasp as Dave presses his lips softly against your own. 

He pulls away, face pink. “karkat i- i uh. i didn’t mean to do that im sorry i sh-should have asked you i promise i w-” Now, it’s your turn to cut him off. You close your eyes and connect your lips again, leaning on the boy you’ve been dreaming to do this with for sweeps. You can’t believe you’re kissing Dave Strider. And he kissed you. And you kissed back. And now you're both kissing. Together. You and Dave are kissing. You are kissing the boy you've loved since you were just 6 sweeps old. You’re kissing Strider, the boy you made fun of and chided and cussed out so many times. 

You feel his warm and soft lips start to move, trying to take in more of your chapped grey ones. You tilt your head to the right, and he places his hands on the back of your head. He starts to rub his hands through your dark hair, holding your slightly bobbing head. He brushes the base of your horns, making you gasp and release little noises barely audible. You place both of your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself in place. He starts to push in a little harder and you let him take control of your mouth. You make a little gasping squeak noise as his hands push your two heads and lips closer together.

You realize that right now, in this common room, you are having your first kiss. And, it’s with Dave. Does this mean he likes you? Does Strider actually like you like you imagined so many times? You feel the music start to flood back into your candy red bloodstream. The melody carries you as you press into the blonde boy connecting lips with you. You can feel the bloodpusher bassline start up again, but this time it’s your own heart that’s thumping. You can feel Dave’s too as he moves his hands down to your torso, pulling you in. The isolating silence is no more, now, you and Dave are making music, the most beautiful music in the world. 

You’re pressed up against his chest now, and your own feels tight. You let out a little sigh into Dave’s lips, and he responds with a light chuckle. He gives you one last drawn out peck and slowly moves back, staring you in the eyes with a look of admiration you have never seen anyone give you before. You can feel the warmth pouring from his eyes, and from his heart. 

“karkat… i like you. a lot. like- i really really like you. you make me feel… okay. you make me feel like someone cares about me, like that i can have.. uh, stability? karkat ive been keeping this like, so long, i couldnt just... not tell you. you are my uh- my everything vantas, youre whats keeping me on this stupid meteor. youre whats keeping me going every morning. youre just-” 

“SHUT UP…DAVE I…” You can’t let him keep going, it’s your turn. “DAVE I... YOU ARE WHAT MAKES MY IDIOTIC SO CALLED LIFE BEAR-BEARABLE. YOU ARE WHAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I CAN GO ANOTHER FUCKING DAY. GOG, YOU ARE WHAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I MIGHT NOT BE A PATHETIC SCREW-UP FREAK. YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I CAN ACTUALLY BE SOMETHING, BE SOMEONE OTHER THAN JUST SOME PETULANT MUTANT ASSHOLE WHO NO ONE COULD EVER LOVE. FUCK I GUESS I.. LOVE YOU OR SOMETHING? I SOUND LIKE AN IDIOT, DAMMIT, NEVERMIND...”

Dave looks like he is nearly on the verge of tears. You’ve never seen him cry, let alone show this much emotion. 

“oh my god… karkat shut up. i... i think i love you too? yeah. fuckit i totally do." He takes a deep breath and gulps. "would you maybe want to… be my- what is it… matey sprite?”

“OH FUCK YOU, YOU KNOW ITS MATESPRIT DUMBASS. BUT YES- I WOULD..”

Dave chuckles, and then, he kisses you again. And again. And… Again. Your kissing makes music betwixt the two of you, creating the most beautiful of melodies. You kiss until you feel your lips numb, and later that night, you fall asleep in each other’s arms, both wrapped in his stupid soft cape. You have finally got with Dave, and damn it if you don’t feel like the happiest troll alive. You, Karkat Vantas, are quite possiblyin love, and now, everything will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is shitty, im not the best writer.. anyway i hope you enjoyed!!


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